Carp(e) Diem
by Shadow Storyteller
Summary: Mermaid AU. After waiting years to ascend to the surface for his first kill, Killua finds the experience isn't exactly what he thought. Seeking a little fun, he manages to become human, only to be swept up in the lives around him. As his break turns into a full blown adventure, Killua has to decide. Will he return to being a Zoldyck or risk his life to stay with his new companions?
1. Chapter 1

Deep in the unexplored ocean (though not as deep as you'd think), miles from any dry land, sits a magnificent castle. It has a menacing air, a presence so strong it manages to pollute the air above with a chill on the hottest summer day, prompting even the most faithless sailors to whisper prayers under their breath when they pass. None of them can never fully understanding the cause of their sudden dread— Unexpected homesickness? Ghosts of the deceased reaching out to them from the depths? A premonition of death?— but the number of nonsense explanations uttered on a single ship could fill the sea.

If by some miracle a human did manage to find out the truth no one would ever believe their story. The grand arches, the iridescent color, the shimmering pearl bits embedded in the walls, the twisting fish and coral skeletons melded into hallways and vast rooms…the castle's very existence seems impossible in even the most extra-ordinary conditions, but it stood, a fluke of nature shining faintly in the dregs of sunlight that manage to travel deep enough into the ocean.

It'd be beautiful if not for the sense of danger that tints every corner. Even the currents drifting through the halls seem ominous in the dim light, and the absence of fish— or any other outside life for that matter— makes the large building seem suffocating in size. Today, though, today it seems a little brighter, and every one of its eight occupants can feel it down to the tips of their tails.

It's here. Finally Killua's birthday, his coming of age, has arrived. Today marks the hundredth and ninety-second full moon since his birth, and he can now ascend to the surface to eat his first human.

More importantly, he can finally see the humans for himself. No more fake stories from Milluki, no more cautionary tales from Grandpa Zeno, and no more disgusted observations from Illumi. Killua can see the truth now.

Alluka and Kalluto are jealous of course, but their brother doesn't extend much sympathy. Killua'd been in the same boat all his life, sulking in the garden every time Milluki or Illumi left since he was small, but today is his turn. He did his waiting, and Alluka only has a year left anyway. They'd survive.

(Killua does say a quick goodbye to his younger siblings, secretly promising to sneak Alluka finger or two before setting out to meet his grandfather at the edge of the castle garden.)

He keeps low to the ground as he swims, letting the plants tickle against his tail. The familiar feeling of seaweed is reassuring against his scales and skin, almost like they're brushing his nerves away, but once in a while a bone will jab uncomfortably against his stomach. It's those damn sirens, always tossing their filth in his garden. They waste their food, unlike the Zoldycks, and his father doesn't tolerate their presence anywhere near the castle. The sirens swear they're cousins, the same species, but Killua's dad loves pointing out it takes much more than a similar hunting style to be related.

"Their very structure is different," Silva'd argue to his son, a savage kind of joy taking over, "and besides using the same lure of an upper human half, there isn't really that much of a similarity between our hunting. You see, a siren will drag you down and let the water do their dirty work. Werip you limb from limb and devour in a matter of seconds."

Killua rises to meet his grandfather, and together they silently pass the edge of the garden, the fluorescent plants seeming to wave goodbye in the sea current. The castle's soon a blurry shadow in the distance, a distorted shape of home, but Killua can't really bring himself to care. He thinks it looks prettier far away.

Even going at their steady pace, they don't break the surface till late evening. Killua tries not to show how disappointed he is at the strange clash of yellow and orange in the sky instead of the bright blue he expected to greet him, or how uncomfortable he finds it having to consciously breath out of his mouth rather than his gills. And how he's supposed to stay above water while his tail drags him down is beyond him. He's probably inhaled half the sea in his last five breaths alone.

"There." Grandpa Zeno points west towards a looming shadow, showing no signs of the discomfort Killua feels. His powerful tail effortlessly supports him, almost lazy in the way it flicks back and forth. "Head for the ship and wait for the storm. Get your prey— just one for your first time— and leave. Don't linger. Don't take seconds. Leave."

Killua frowns (I've been waiting for this since I was three and I only get one!?) but nods. It'd do him no good to argue. His grandpa would sooner drag him back home than hear him out, favorite grandkid or not, and despite his discomfort, he's in no hurry to leave the lukewarm sunlight left over from the daytime. Besides, there's no way he's endangering this opportunity.

"Most of the sailors will be drunk by then, so it shouldn't be too hard to go unnoticed." His grandpa's eyes flicker to Killua's white hair glowing even in the fading sun. "Just remember silence is key. No one but your prey is to see you. If stories of the Zoldycks start back up again…"

Zeno's warning glance makes Killua shiver despite himself.

They submerge, Zeno offering his grandson a supporting tap on the tail, before they set off on their separate paths.

The first thing Killua notices once he resurfaces near the boat is the stench of alcohol and smoke. It makes him crinkle his nose in disgust and nearly dive back under the water to escape, but he forces himself to wait it out until he adjusts. Laughter drifts across the sea, some of the more obnoxious chuckles grating on his nerves, and there's a strange, melodic screech that's… actually quite pleasant.

What is that? he wonders, approaching the side cautiously. Killua looks up, slightly intimidated by the sheer size of the human's creation. How many of them did it take to make this? How long did it take to seal the wooden boards together, enable such a large, bulky thing to hold so much and still float on water? How did they even come up with such a monstrosity?

Tentatively he reaches out to touch the wood, running his palm over it and marveling at the strange patches of roughness under his palm. He jumps when the melodic screech soars in volume, swelling into dizzying sound that makes the Zoldyck feel impractically giddy. What are the humans doing to produce that amazing sound?

Killua makes a snap decision, unsheathing his claws and digging them deep into the ship's side before he can talk himself out of it.

Zoldycks are strong creatures, but Killua finds it's incredibly difficult to climb up the side of the ship, especially since he's lacking legs. His tail hangs uselessly in the air, the wood scraping his scales, and his claws keep getting caught in between splitters. Then there's the smell. Ugh! The last half of his journey is done with as little breathing as he can manage, which only slows him down all the more by the time he's finally able to drag himself the final few inches to peer onto the deck night is setting in, and he's beginning to wonder if seeing these humans is worth all the trouble.

Then he takes a breath, and it's all he can do to keep his grip on the ship.

Human stench stabs strongly at his tongue. Piss, disease, alcohol, tobacco…it all rolls over him at once in a wave, gagging him with its potent presence. And he's supposed to eat this? Rotting fish smell better than this out right filth!

But then the second wave drifts over, covering the first unforgiving scent and carrying something Killua has never smelled before. Rich soil and fresh saplings and springing flowers, undeniable life that flows so smoothly compared different to the ocean's chaotic motion of currents and undertows. Even the stuff he's managed to swipe from long sunken ships had never smelled this good, this alive.

It's a party in full swing. Sailors are laughing as they swap stories, turning blue in the face from an intense enjoyment Killua didn't think was possible. Some are dancing to the musical screech coming from an oddly-shaped wooden box with strings, clapping in unison as they stomp gracefully around each other in organized steps. Others stumble over their feet as they down another bottle, barely managing to stay on board.

"Happy birthday, Prince Kurapika!" Large booms echo as colors suddenly burst in the sky, and cheers rise up from the boat, prompting more explosions that take Killua's breath away.

Envy hits him hard in the chest, nearly doubling him over with its intensity. How?! How can they be this…amazing? He wants to join them, to laugh like that. Wants to experience the things leaving such an amazing mark on them. He wants to learn that dance. Hell, he wants to be able to dance.

Killua's tail smacks the side of the boat in a bitter reminder of what exactly is separating him and the humans.

Focus, he scolds, sense flooding back to him. The scent of rain is strong now. His first meal will be starting soon. A distracted Zoldyck is a noticed Zoldyck, and Killua doesn't fancy finding out what his dad would do if the humans started talking again.

Killua follows everyone's eyes to a small group of three people at the center of the ship surrounded by clapping sailors. The one in the middle looks flustered, smiling uneasily while his two companions laugh and jostle him good-naturedly. His hair reminds Killua of the gold he's found in sunken ships, and his clothes are the most well-made on the ship.

Must be the prince.

One of his companions, some old guy in a suit, thumps the prince on the back, nearly knocking the poor man off his feet as he chuckles madly at a bad joke. His checks are flushed red with intoxication, and he has a dopey look on his face that Killua decides may just be his normal expression.

The drunkard leans heavily onto a much shorter boy with insanely spiky hair, almost collapsing when he tries to take a step. The boy— Killua thinks his name is Gon if the old man's to be believed in his state— shares a smile with the prince as he helps hold the old man steady, holding the bulk of him effortlessly.

A gust of wind sweeps over the party, jerking the sails. Killua can easily taste the storm nearly a mile away, but the sailors barely bat an eye.

He sees Gon tense as the gust hits him and look out to sea for a minute, body rigid. Can he tell the storm is coming? Killua studies Gon as he carefully sniffs the air, his eyes flashing in understanding. It looks like he's my age. That's nowhere near experienced enough for a human to be able to read the sea so easily.

Gon turns to the prince and says something Killua can't hear, but Kurapika's face slips out of its small grin and into a concerned frown. They snap into immediate action, the prince setting off with the boy close at his heels, signaling for the sailors around him to take down the sails.

The first crack of thunder comes before half the sailors are even close to doing something remotely productive. Killua lets himself fall off the side of the boat, grinning as he's surrounded once more by swirling water. He loves when the sea gets temperamental; it's such a nice change.

The first body, some skinny guy with a bandana, hits the water almost immediately, but Killua lets that sailor drown. He just doesn't lookappetizing like some of the other, more filled-out humans. Killua wants his first meal to be a good one.

(And if he felt a small stab of sadness when that unbelievable scent was washed away by the ocean…well, that's his business.)

Killua settles for a fat guy with a squashed nose. It fills him up and he manages to save a finger for Alluka. Taste though…not as good as he heard it'd be. And the blood... this is kind of annoying. Troublesome. In fact, the whole experience is uncomfortable. It isn't like the fish he ate at home. This food fights even when it should by all accounts be dead, and it's really disconcerting to be eating body parts he also has. Is this what his diet will be for the rest of his life? He can't stop his lip from curling in disgust or the sickening lurch in his stomach the next time he sees a human.

And to think he'd thought he'd want seconds.

Between the winds and the sea, the ship hadn't had much of a fighting chance even if half her crew wasn't intoxicated. It doesn't take long for the mast to splinter under the strain, but the rocks are what actually finish it off. Killua resurfaces in time to watch it crack in half and slowly sink into the sea with a pitiful groan. A small, desperate lifeboat is managing to stay upright nearby, but he doesn't put much stalk in its survival with this kind of weather.

He turns to head back, vaguely confused at the hollow hunger in his gut (how has such a huge human not fill him?!), when the sudden movement of what he thought was just another dead sailor buoying to the surface nearly kicks him in the face.

It's that human from before, that spiky-haired boy, swimming powerfully towards the surface.

Killua watches idly from below as Gon breaks the surface—maybe even manages to get in one gulp of air, it's hard to say from Killua's angle—but the waves quickly shove him down. The conflicting currents smash into his body, sending him tumbling every which way and most likely fatally disorienting him. By the time the boy regains a small sense of direction, he's been swept at least ten yards away from his original spot.

But the amazing thing is Gon keeps going. Again and again, he fights towards the surface, always managing to swim up not matter how badly he's turned around, only to be slammed back down into the water. Killua just stares, impressed and a little amused, as the ocean easily squashes the human's struggle. He can see him loosing steam; it's only a matter of time until his arms give out.

Killua will let Gon drown, and he will lose little sleep over the matter.

On his next desperate struggle to get above water, twisting madly in his search for the surface, Gon sees Killua's outline hovering on the lower edge of his blurred vision. A vague, human shape that could possibly be a corpse already swelling in the salt, but it doesn't matter. They could be alive. Dead or not, it could be one of his friends.

Changing his course, Gon dives down instead of up, taking Killua by surprise as he propels towards him. Curious, Killua lets the boy grab him around the waist and drag him up with him towards the surface.

It's kind of sad, really, watching the human struggle just for the sake of "saving" Killua. He's not even warm anymore, his body heat robbed by the water, and this will undoubtably be his last struggle.

Pity prompts Killua to leave (without the added weight the boy might have another chance), but when he moves even the slightest bit to get out of Gon's embrace, the boy squeezes tighter, and Killua can almost feel his muscles working overtime to handle the strain of two people.

What is with this guy?

Gon's strength gives out barely a foot from the surface, and the Zolyck can't help but offer a quick, pitiful swish of his tail to finish the journey. The human gasps obnoxiously in Killua's ear and tightens his hold around the Zoldyck, and it takes Killua by surprise how tightly he clings, nearly sending them back underwater. Gon shakes the water from his face and looks at Killua with squinted brown eyes, practically beaming as one of the worst storms of the decade rages around them. It's open and warm and everything that isn't the sea.

"Glad you're o—"

A wave wrenches Gon's weak grip from Killua's body and would have shoved the weary boy to his grave if Killua hadn't grabbed him with a startled shout. And of course it's just his luck a piece of broken wood from the ship manages to smack Gon in the face (and also nick Killua in the back of the head), successfully knocking him out and leaving the Zoldyck with a useless body he's in no mood to eat. One fat guy is enough for him, thank you. For a lifetime.

(His stomach still hurts.)

So he brings Gonna to shore. Killua's not really sure what else to do. Letting him go to drown just seems…wrong. Yeah, yeah, sailors are dying around him, but this is different! Killua never made a move to help them. Now that he's saved Gon, letting him die is cruel, a deliberate action made out of an indifference that reminds Killua of his eldest brother, and Killua refuses to be like him even remotely like him, a monster that slaughters a whole settlement near the sea just for the fun of it.

It's slow, painful work (Killua's lungs are on fire from staying above water so long) and he nearly drowns Gon many times in the process, but they manage to get to the closest landmass by dawn. Killua goes as far inland as he can with his tail, stopping when the sand grates uncomfortably against his stomach and dropping the human unceremoniously onto the ground.

Killua makes sure Gon's mouth and nose are clear of the water before he flops down himself, panting. His tail is sorer than it's ever been, but he feels satisfied somehow. The hollow hunger in his gut's somehow sated for now ( at least ignorable), and all he wants to do is fall asleep in the dawning sun.

Gon yawns in his sleep, revealing a missing tooth on the left next to his front teeth. There's a dark bruise taking up most of his right check from the board, but the boy looks peaceful. He'll wake up within the hour, probably take a moment to appreciate his luck (Killua knows the boy'll never suspect what actually happened, the closest conclusion he'll come to some kind of gold-hearted siren) and head home.

Killua pictures Gon's house to be somewhere deep in greenery farther on shore, tucked away from other houses and surrounded by the scent life that still clings to his waterlogged body. He probably doesn't live alone, so his mom and dad'll be waiting for him. Maybe a grandma or grandpa too? A lover? The whole house'll definitely be warm, not like the cold water that occupies Killua's own residence, and the plants that surround his house are probably bright and open, not dull and brittle like the Zoldyck's garden. Maybe there'll be a fresh meal, one that doesn't fight back when he bites into it.

And there's that pang of envy again.

What do I have to be jealous of? he fumes. I'm not this fragile! My tooth would grow back. My skin wouldn't be this scratched up. I wouldn't need rescuing.

And yet the little green monster in his chest won't shut up.

A loud groan freezes Killua, and his blood practically runs cold when he sees the boy start to shift. Gon's waking up!?

The Zoldyck leaps into action, jerking up and shoving his hands deep into the sand to propel himself out towards the water, but he's too far in. His tail barely budges in the heavy, wet sand. There's no way he can get in the water fast enough to avoid being seen.

So Killua stops short and tenses his arms, watching carefully as the human's eyes slowly flutter open. He watches in panicked amusement as confusion overtakes Gon's young features, soon replaced with pain as he sits up and looks around, finally catching sight of the Zoldyck sitting next to him.

"Hey—"

Killua's hand shoots out lightening fast, hitting the back of Gon's neck and knocking him out. At least he hopes he knocked him out. The sweet spot for killing and the sweet spot for knocking a human unconscious always get mixed up in his head.

Oh! No, he hears breathing. It's all good.

The Zoldyck slides carefully back into the sea as fast as he can, mindful of the sand grating his stomach and the laughter he catches in the distance. The moment he's far enough in the water he submerges, retreating behind the rocks close by to watch a group strolling down the beach gradually revealed in the morning mist.

The only woman in the group, a sickly pale thing with crazy black hair, spots Gon first. "Hey! Are you okay?"

She takes in the bruising and cuts and missing tooth before scooping the boy up, running surrounded by her confused friends to wherever human's go to heal. Milluki said they had some kind of special building that can hold thousands of them. Killua figured the special building had to be at least as big as his house to hold all the family and friends that would surround the wounded human. He heard humans are close like that.

Does he…Gon have a lot of friends?

Killua lingers for a few moments before descending. Somehow the water that rushes over his gills doesn't bring the relief he wants.


	2. Chapter 2

Killua figures out fairly quickly he's a complete failure of a Zoldyck.

After watching his two brothers go through it and all the embarrassing "you're maturing" speeches from his family, Killua had thought he was reasonably prepared and knew what he was up against. Frenzies, cravings for humans, lack of control, mood swings…the whole nine knots, but he hasn't felt any different. If anything, he's felt more empty. He can barely summon the desire to float around the garden and rarely eats anymore. He hoped in the first difficult weeks the taste would eventually grow on him like some kind of parasite, take care of the disgust that rises in his gut with every meal, but now, a month later, he prays he's a late bloomer. There's no way he can on the edge of starvation for the rest of his life.

Even with Alluka managing to sneak him food more often than not (a few scraps of fish or what have you), Killua hasn't felt full since coming of age. Sometimes he has to choke down a human just to stay alive, barley able to even swim into active waters with how weak hunger's made him.

The worst part is he doesn't know what his problem is, so he can't even begin to try and fix it. Humans smell delicious, sure, and his mouth still waters at the idea of tearing into something with that kind of scent. But when it comes to actually eating them, every bite is like wilted seaweed in his mouth no matter the kind of the human.

Grandpa Zeno's notably worried, which sets the whole family on edge. Killua's actually been asked— albeit in a roundabout way— if he's feeling okay, but his grandfather seems to assume it'll pass. At least he decides it's nothing severe enough to deter training Killua from taking over the family.

The new, more academic training brings surprising relief. Finally, something he can do right. Killua's proud to say he knows all of the human alphabet and how to spell his name after only a couple lessons and tries not to think about how he's supposed to eventually use this knowledge to "help his family." He's even been able to sound out a few words he's seen at the beach, names of stores and such that he can see from his perch out in the ocean. Sometimes a small group of humans that smell really weird will march up and down the beach, shouting about "cleaning water" and "saving fish" or whatever, but Killua can figure out most of the words on their signs by sounding them out.

He thinks it's kinda funny that one of them gets this _really_ shrill voice when another humans challenge her just like his mom does when she goes on one of her tirades. Same lecturing tone and _everything_!

...

Maybe that's it. Maybe if Killua stopped going to see the humans, stopped seeing them as equals, he wouldn't feel so nauseated every time he had to eat one, but it's…he can't do that! Not now. Not after spending the last two months spending his days listening to the waves crash and the people live.

Say what you want about their stupidity and violence, but humans are fascinating to watch. Like why do they go swimming when they know (almost) all the dangers that would love to eat them? Why are they so instant on having colorful cloth cover their bodies at all times? Why does it take them so long to eat one thing? Why do some of them wake up so early to see the sunrise if it'll make them cranky later? Why is jumping oddly around a campfire in a "dance" so much fun? Why do they laugh so loudly when "it" catches them? Why do they always seem so damn happy?

(Why does Gon come back every day just to dangle a hook in the water when fish rarely wander in this far? Why wasn't he there the first eight days Killua started visiting the beach? Why does that dark haired girl from before always bring him food? Why does he wear the same bright green shorts every day? Why is his hair always so pointy? Why does he always look so happy even when he never gets a bite?)

Killua spent his whole life waiting to ascend to the surface. Now that he's done it, he has no idea what to do with himself. The very act of eating is becoming a chore, and with the duty of ruling over his family for the rest of his life stretched out inevitably before him, going to the beach feels more and more like a necessity. It's the only escape he has left.

And yet the more he sees the human's daily life, the deeper jealousy claws his chest.

And when the questions are overwhelming him it's not like he can just swim up and ask them why "dancing" is different from "spinning" but _Neptune_ would he like to know. If there were anyway he could just _talk_ to one of them for a minute or two, sate at least some of his curiosity, he'd take it in a heartbeat.

Apparently his growing desperation on top of his failing health is enough to worry even Illumi, who shows his worry through his standard lecture—humans are food, Zoldycks evolutionary miracle, blah, kings of the sea, blah, blah— and for once in Killua's life, it actually helps.

See, his brother was heading out to see the sea witch, Hisoka, when he stopped Killua.

Sea witches are an immensely powerful creatures, ones even the Zoldycks wouldn't like to get on the bad side of. They can do the impossible— _be_ the impossible— and sure, Killua can't approach the humans as a Zoldyck. But as a human himself? No one would be the wiser. His family wouldn't suspect a thing if he was gone for just a day or two. A few days to eat something besides leftover fish, like that chocolate thing he's heard of, or maybe some potatoes. Enough time to get some answers. Maybe he could talk to Gon.

Of course there's no way in hell he's going to Hisoka. He'd tell Illumi exactly where Killua went after reaping the benefits of a cockeyed deal.

The sea witch down south, however…

* * *

"Hey~? …Hello~?"

Killua's voice tumbles uselessly into the black abyss before him, not even bothering to echo back before it dies.

"You there~? I wanna make a deal~!"

Nothing.

He sighs, drawing away from the vastness before him. The witch is supposed to live in this trench, but he's beginning to doubt his information. How can she stand it? Just looking into it makes Killua feel tiny and frail. If she thinks he's going down there without some kind of light, she has another thing coming.

"Hey! Old ha—"

Killua's sharply cut off as he's jerked down into sudden blindness.

Gasping in pain, he slaps his tail as hard as he can against the invisible _thing_ crushing his waist in the darkness. A jolt of panic shocks through his body when it holds tighter, constricting in a way that makes the long-forgotten feeling of fear hammer in his chest. Zoldyck tails are one of the strongest things in the sea. If this witch—at least he hopes it's the witch—can keep her grip on him…

Hard rocks cut into Killua's back as he's abruptly slammed onto the sea floor, and the impact rattles in his head long after the grip on him loosens. Whatever it is that grabbed him lingers over him in a silent threat before retreating entirely out of sight, which only makes his situation worse. At least he could keep track of it when was pulling him. Now it could be anywhere.

The bottom of the trench is odd. A wide circle of artificial light comes from a large crater in the center and encompasses the area around Killua. He's surrounded by strange cages and bottles of varying size and color the drift lazily around him, a few human nick-knacks in the mix as well. It's nothing impressive, but the water around Killua feels heavy with power and hard to breath, and the whole layout unsettles something in the Zoldyck. The trench feels like it's for show, somewhere to be occupied rather than lived in; an elaborate stage crafted just right to feel wrong.

A small girl lingers right on the edge of the ring of light, her hair pulled into tight pigtails by vibrant ribbons that twist like writhing snakes in the water. She must be the sea witch, Biscuit Krueger.

Killua rights himself and sizes her up. She looks so… _young_. No older than Alluka at least. Her appearance deceptively normal too. She could be any old mermaid from the seas a little farther west of here with her short stature and bright tail, but witches typically aren't mermaids. In fact they tend to be half-breeds or mutants of some kind. Is that why she's hiding down in a hole?

"What was that you called me?" Her sickly sweet tone makes Killua cringe with its razor sharp edge just as much as the silhouette of a tentacle shifting threateningly behind her.

"N-nothing!"

So not a mermaid then.

The cute face that beams back at him does little to reassure him. "That's what I thought." Biscuit takes her place in front of her fissure, her face framed menacingly by the light. Killua doesn't doubt she did that on purpose. Hisoka can be pretty melodramatic too. Must just be a witch thing. "So how can I help you? You want vengeance? Beauty?" Her eyes twinkle as she grabs a particularly foreboding bottle drifting by. "Love?"

Killua shifts back as far as he can from the sea witch while remaining inside the light. "Um…none of the above? I need legs." He flicks his tail nervously before clarifying, "I want to be human. For a day or two! Not long."

Much to his surprise, Biscuit just clicks her tongue in annoyance as she turns to her bottles. Killua kinda feels a little insulted at her sudden lack of interest. "Can you afford this kind of magic, kid? This is powerful stuff in its own right, but a spell that works on a Zoldyck, let alone one that turns them _human_? That's in a level all its own." Biscuit peers back at him. "Some say it doesn't exist." She shrugs. "I say some just don't have the intelligence to imagine such power."

"So you can do it?"

Biscuit chuckles at Killua's hopeful expression. "I told you that's not the problem. The issue is the expense— _is that what I think it is?!_ "

There, sitting in Killua's palm, is one of the most valuable gems in the world, _Blue Planet_. It's been unseen for more than a decade, but there it is, shinning clearly even at the bottom of the trench in all its legendary glory. The witch drools as she watches in the inside of the gem swirl like an invisible whirlpool, forever imitating like the clouds in the atmosphere just like the stories say. Biscuit's hand unconsciously drifts forward.

Killua closes his hand, hiding it from view. "So you can do it?"

Biscuit snaps out of it and darts towards her bottles, grabbing five in her hand and dumping them into her fissure to turn the light an icy blue. "It'll be done in just a minute!" She tosses ingredients into her concoction haphazardly, barely pausing to check what she's grabbing before pouring it in. Sometimes she even throws in the whole bottle.

Killua watches the trench's mixture shift into dizzying colors with a sense of growing dread. When it finally settles into a muddy brown that reminds him of ocean scum, he can't help but ask, "So what exactly is this potion gonna do to me?"

Biscuit barely spares him a glance, uncorking a purple bottle to sniff its contents. She makes a disgusted face before tossing it in. "Well, you do know there are some major differences between your body and a human's despite how similar you look, right? This potion's going to rearrange your organs and grow you all the parts of a human you need."

 _Oh, is that all._

"You're going to be sore for a long while after the initial kick, and there may be a side-effect or two since you're so young," Biscuit shrugs nonchalantly, "but I'm not some bottom-feeding barnacle. All terms and conditions will be explained to you, and I'll do my best to get you to land without dying once you drink the potion."

"I can't just take it near shore and drink it?"

Killua hardly thinks his question deserves such a strong snort of amusement from the sea witch. "Are you kidding? Kid, how many creatures do you think would love to rip you apart once you're completely defenseless? And you _will_ be defenseless. No more indestructible skin. No more sharp teeth or claws. No more breathing underwater for more than a minute. Hell, you won't even be able to swim because of one of the one of the side-effects. _Defenseless_." She stops long enough to raise as eyebrow. "Plus I assume you want to be secretive about this. I don't think your old man would be happy to hear about our little deal."

 _Well…yeah._

"On top of that, you're going to be really incapacitated. Unless you find a way to covertly get on the beach and drink this without drawing the attention of any humans, you're going to drown if you take this alone because there's no way you'll be able to swim to shore when the convulsions start. I can take you if you drink it here, though."

Biscuit seems to take his lack of visible fear as a challenge because she gets progressively more dramatic as she brews, even going as far as to throw a whole, star-shaped bottle into the fissure and stand in the resulting discharge. Killua has to hold back a snicker when she chokes in the orange swirls.

There's only a few more doses of this and that once Biscuit recovers, successfully finishing the potion and killing the small good mood that had settled in Killua. She easily captures the concoction into a triangular container and comes to stand in front of the Zoldyck. Killua's stomach turns. It's still the color mud.

"Okay! Quick, simplified explanation." Biscuit taps her jaw. "You'll be growing various parts in a very, _very_ painful manner. This isn't a cakewalk. For example, you need to grow vocal chords as well as legs. It hurts at first, you're sore for a day or two, and you're good. You'll have one set of teeth as a human, so don't be surprised when that other, sharp Zoldyck set you have falls out." Biscuit ticks each subject off on her fingers as she talks. "You're gills will be smoothed over by skin, your skin will become squishy, and taste for blood will be suppressed…mostly. Don't try eat anyone, got it?"

Biscuit sighs and shakes the bottle. "I don't know why, but that and smelling things just never go as planned. The feet got some kinks in them too." She nods thoughtfully. "You know, not a lot of fish want to be human, especially after learning how painful it is to take the potion, but the ones who come back tell me every step is like walking on swords. You can trade something to dull the pain…perhaps your voice?"

Killua barely manages to hold in a snort at the expectant witch. Is she kidding? How is he supposed to find out stuff if he can't even ask questions? And what are a couple of feet cramps next to the things he's already endured? Biscuit's seriously underestimated how far the Zoldycks are willing to toughen up to keep from going extinct. They're born pretty indestructible to begin with, but there are plenty of other things they have to build immunity to from day one. Can't have a curious young one die because they brushed up against the wrong type of fish while playing.

"I'm good, thanks." He accepts the bottle with mixed feelings and tries not to flinch at how hot it feels in his hand. It's impossible to tell whether it's fear or excitement jittering in his stomach now. "So… how much do I take? When does this wear off?

"It doesn't."

Killua blinks. "Then how am I supposed to get back?" he asks flatly,

Biscuit clasps her hands together. "Well that's just it. My potions have a bit of a built-in clause. There'd be no way to get this kind of power without a deal, you know? So, you got a year- maybe a year in a half for you since you're not full-grown- until it wears off. If, by the end of your time, you have not returned, you will become sea foam. And die. Sorry 'bout that." She really doesn't look that sorry. "That gives you two options: either become fully human, or drink another potion I'll have to whip up for you."

Killua regards her suspiciously. "What kind of potion? Why don't you give it to me now?"

Biscuit waves her hand, brushing his concern aside easy. "The price is different for everyone. The next potion will have to compete with your attachment to the surface and its humans. Better to hurry back, understand? Don't get too attached to some prince like my last customer.

"Now," Biscuit grabs a glowing stone slab and a shattered piece of a shell floating by, "this claims that you fully understand all risks and I am in no way responsible for your fate up on the shore. If you die before you reach the surface, this contract will insure I'll die as well. Customer confidentiality, blah blah, I hold the right to check up on you at any time boring, boring…I will appear when you call and wish to return so I can assess the damage, yatta…got it?"

The bottle is hot in Killua's hand. Hesitation sits heavy in his chest and only grows as the seconds pass. If he doesn't do this now, he's going to back out. He steels himself and acts.

In one fluid motion Killua signs his name, drops the gem into Biscuit's stunned hand, and downs the potion in one gulp, holding back his gag reflex as it slides down his throat.

"Don't drink it yet! I'm not ready!"

 _Well too late now._

His gut lurches in what he assumes is nausea from the nasty taste left in his mouth, but then it rolls again. And again. Pain builds until he can't even hold the empty bottle in his numb fingers.

Biscuit curses, drops the gem. She rushes to his side and yells…something. Killua can't hear passed the surging in his ears, can barely feel her wrapping him in an awkward hug, can't even see the angry hysteria in her eyes.

Dimly he's aware of the light growing brighter, the pressure wrapped firmly around his middle, the sea rushing passed his body, but they seem so insignificant. He's weak and shaking, barely a moment's rest before the next wave starts and ends and starts and ends and starts until it doesn't even stop anymore.

There's throbbing in his tail. His _tail_. It's not supposed to do that. Tails don't hurt.

Something glints in front of his eyes. One of his scales?

A knife stabs through Killua's neck leaving him gasping, water rushing in to his throat the wrong way, surging into his nose, and he gropes blindly at his neck to pull the knife out but he can't find _anything_. Not even the slits of his gills, and he can't figure out how to breath anymore, why won't his gills work, why is his tail so painful—

Panic slams into Killua, dulling the pain for the brief moment is takes him to process exactly what's happening, to understand he's _drowning_.

For a hysterical moment he thinks it's hilarious. A Zoldyck is drowning. The deadliest predator in the sea is drowning.

And then blind instinct kicks in. He starts thrashing, clawing at the pressure around his waist, fighting to swim what he hopes is up towards the surface, but he thinks they pull him down, farther into the sea to drown and he _knew_ he should of told Alluka where he was going.

Relief comes in cold air smacking his face and a deep, heaving breath that frankly hurts about as much as it helps. His head spins, light and empty and he thinks he sees stars, but there are no stars underwater.

Weakly he tries to move his tail, tries to figure out how much damage is done, but the wave of pain that blasts through his body is just too much.

Killua passes out.


	3. Chapter 3

Gon loves the sound of seagulls in the morning. As much as he likes the quiet that fishing so early in the morning gives him, there's something about being completely alone that sets him on edge. Crashing waves can offer a small illusion of company, but the tangible presence of actual life is reassuring. It's almost uplifting when faced with such a nice day. The sun is shining, the sky is just turning a beautiful light blue that promises a clear day, and the sea is surprisingly calm, so different from the chaos of a few weeks ago.

Zaban's locals said it was the worst storm to hit in the last five years. Only a fourth of the crew Gon set out with survived, and had the ship been any farther out to sea, any further from their destination, there's no doubt they all would be dead.

Of course the sailors would have been in a better position to respond had they been farther away. They thought they were home free, close enough to the goal to celebrate the end of a six month journey a bit early. They were over-confident in their understanding of the sea, and by the time Zaban was aware of their presence and managed to send a rescue team, more than half those who lived passed the initial sinking were dead from cold. More died in hospitals and clinics over the next week. That they even have twenty-five percent left is astounding.

Kurapika calls Gon's survival a miracle. Leorio claims freakish luck. Gon tries not to think about it. He might not remember much, but he knows there was someone out there with him, knows he had them in his arms, and knows they were alive. But Gon was found alone on the beach.

He doesn't like to think about it.

Gon walks as close to the surf as he can without wetting his boots. His fishing rod bumps comfortably against his shoulder, ready at a moment's notice. Debris from the ship is still drifting to shore, and people have been stepping on planks and broken bottles as often as they've stumbled across jewelry or gold. He makes it a point to pick up or fish out whatever garbage he spots on the way to and from his fishing spot.

At this point the majority of trash hovers out in what Gon likes to call the dead zone, the waves never quite manage to budge whatever wreckage gets stuck there. Most of his attention ends up out on the horizon, leaving him to trip over boards or step in glass on more than one occasion.

Though a body is a new one.

Gon narrowly manages to avoid trampling the boy, overbalances into the water, and gasps as the cold sea leaks through his shorts. He scrambles to the unconscious boy's side, quickly assessing state of the boy. He's skin and bones, definitely malnourished, and unconscious.

Possibly dead.

Gon rushes into action. He fumbles towards the stranger's neck, brushes aside the shocking white hair with nervous fingers to get a better read on his pulse, but the instant his hands make contact with skin, the stranger jerks in surprise. He coughs water out of his throat before sucking air greedily into his lungs, his eyes wide and bloodshot.

It seems to take the stranger a couple of moments to figure out exactly where he is, or maybe it simply takes him that long to summon the will to finally process the world around him, but the look of slowly dawning terror in his eyes when he sees Gon kneeling next to him is unexpected.

"Are you okay?" Gon blinks down at him, maintaining eye contact long enough to make the stranger fidget slightly and look away. "Hey, can you hear me? Do you understand me? What's your name?"

"…"

Gon leans forward to hear but backs away almost immediately under the boy's frustrated glare. It's obvious he's trying to talk—Gon can even make out a few short words he's mouthing—but an actual sound seems beyond his ability. Is it a side effect of dehydration? A cut? He doesn't see any damage to the boy's pale throat, but then most of his skin is covered by hair. There's not tell-tale blood on the sand either. Even so internal damage is a possibility. If that's the case he needs to get to a doctor _now_ , but Gon's not going to be able to get him anywhere if the boy's viewing him as an enemy. If he struggles, thinks will only get worse.

So first thing first…establish some trust and calm him down.

Gon keeps a respectful distance, but leans in closer, pointedly turning his ear towards the boy. "I can't hear you," he says, keeping anything out of his voice that could be considered remotely condescending. His tone sounds flat, bordering uncaring, but it seems to avoid upsetting the boy. "Can you tell me your name?"

"…K—"

Whatever other sound the stranger could have made disappears in the sudden shriek of pain that rips itself from his throat, the sheer volume of it surprising Gon. He watches in stunned horror as the boy curls onto his side and digs at his neck, mouth still open in a scream far after his short-lived voice has faded, tearing at it with claw-like nails that seemingly come out of nowhere.

Gon jumps to his feet at the sight of blood, ready to run for help, to take off down the beach in search of someone, _anyone_ , but it's early. Shops aren't even open yet in this part of town. Even if he shouts at the top of his lungs, by the time someone actually responds…

He bends over the boy and grabs his hands. He pulls them away from his neck with all this strength, but Gon miscalculates. The boy's light, dangerously so, and almost lands on his face as Gon accidentally hauls him to his feet. Nearly the instant his feet touch the ground, he collapses under his own weight, choking back another yell as Gon fights him keep upright. He weakly thrashes once, twice, head lolling.

Gon nearly topples over as the stranger passes out, barely managing to keep the other's head from crashing to the ground. Grunting, he folds his arm under the boy's legs and picks him up, cradling him against his chest as he sets down the beach. His house isn't too far. The boy's wounds are easily treatable with a common first aid kit. Gon doubts the boy would take kindly to waking up in a doctor's office, and he has Leorio near by if he needs him anyway. Besides, all the doctors in town have their hands full with injuries sailors. He can handle one hurt person for a little bit.

Now that Gon looks at him, the boy can't be more than fourteen, fifteen tops. Why is he so thin? Gon knows he's not from the ship, and there's no way he could survive at sea so long anyway. Is he one of the homeless from town? That could explain why he's naked. Some of the meaner kids have taken a liking to robbing the homeless, dumping them in some alley once they're done, but there's usually some sign of a struggle. Bruises, cuts, a shoe print or two branded onto the victims side…but this guy is _pristine_.

More importantly, he's pale. No one in Zaban is pale. The sun's too strong for even the most UV retardant resident to escape a light tan. This guy would have to stay inside all hours of the day to stay this colorless. Is that it? Did he break out of some kind of prison?

Gon glances down at the boy, noting the shallow breathing. _First things first, I need to get him help._

* * *

The stranger, who Gon has taken to calling K, manages to have a few brief moments of consciousness over the next couple days. Gon's able to get some fresh water down K's throat and dress him in loose shorts during his calmer moments of awareness, but he's still speechless. Food is a no-go too. The one time they attempted to feed him a sliced apple, K's gums started to bleed. Leorio put him on a strict soft-food diet, but even then K won't eat _anything_. Applesauce, tomato soup, chicken noodle… the few spoonfuls of oatmeal Gon fed the boy before got him a sour look and food spat on his floor. It might be okay now, though, if he bothered to wake up.

"It's the weirdest thing," Leorio says as he packs his bag in preparation to leave. "The first day, his body was about as strong as a china doll. Now…" He throws his hands up, the deflated mattress sagging under the movement, but K doesn't stir. "He's not quite up to par with how strong a kid his age should be, but a little exercise and some food is all he'll need to be good as new. His teeth seem to be lagging though. Solid food should be an option in a few days. Next week at the latest. See ya tomorrow."

"Bye."

 _Another few days, huh?_ Gon sighs and gently lowers himself onto the old, rusted cot he'd managed to scrounge up while his houseguest takes the bed. It sinks dangerously underneath him, but it'll do.

That would be another problem once K woke up. Forget helping the boy get back on his feet. Having enough space and food for the two of them is going to stretch Gon's tiny budget to the max.

The shack Gon is staying in barely manages to hold the two of them as is. It was most likely suppose to be some kind of playhouse from Zaban's kids, but the town had apparently given up half way when the building became unstable. Gon gave it a simple fix- a support beam or two inside to make sure the roof didn't cave in- but it was definitely a short-term solution.

 _Not that I need a long-term one_ , Gon reminds himself. Kurapika, being the wealthy son of the Kurtas in the north, managed to contract a ship that will take the remaining sailors home in a few weeks. It'll take Gon home. Even if K manages to stay conscious for more than a handful of hours by the time three weeks are up, he'll never be able to take care of himself, and none of the townspeople know the boy.

Once the survivors clear out, inns will have rooms open, but Gon doesn't have much money left to help right now, let alone later. When storm season starts there's no way K'd be able to stay in the shack. Maybe K can find a job to pay for an inn? An apprenticeship? There must be some old master around town, but Gon has the sinking feeling K won't appeal to them. Forget his perfectly smooth hands: K's impossibly pale skin is a dead giveaway he's never worked a day in his life.

Perhaps K's actually a scholar of some kind? Books don't exactly cause scars. It won't do him no good in a small town like this. He'd have to travel alone to some big city, but it's something.

Gon closes his eyes, relaxes his body. No use in thinking about it now. He'll just have to ask.

* * *

K wakes up the next day.

It's a gradual process. K's fully aware long before he actually opens his eyes-Gon notices the change in breathing right away but carefully goes about business as usual- and there's a moment he seems to gather himself as he stares at the sunken ceiling. He sighs, running his hands over his face and through his freshly-cut hair, and takes a slow, bracing breath.

Then his head turns slowly to the side, freezing comically when he sees Gon.

Unlike the times before, Gon doesn't spring to action. He stays planted where he is and continues to clean his boots, silently counting down the minutes their staring contest lasts. How long until the other breaks the silence?

...Seven minutes. K's still awake and staring, face blank.

...Fifteen minutes. Gon's boots have been clean for three. He finally sees something start to work its way into the other's face: impatience.

"So, can you talk now?"

"…"

"I'll take that as a no?" Gon prompts.

K gives him what might be a growl, moving his head in an awkward "no." Gon assumes his frustration lies with his damaged body rather than Gon himself, but he knows K's none to happy being limited to the improv sign language Gon's been teaching in his bouts of consciousness.

"…"

"What? Hungry?"

K shakes his head.

"Thirsty?"

"…y…s…" His voice is dry and cracking, painfully broken. It's barely the whisper of a whisper, but it's still progress.

Gon grabs one of the few clean glasses he has and heads to the old sink Leorio managed to hook up to the well outside. The water isn't cold by any means, but it's clean enough.

K stubbornly refuses to let Gon help him drink. He gropes for the cup, nearly knocking it out of Gon's hands, and he fumbles with the smooth glass once Gon lets go. A strange look of awe takes over K's face, and he spends several minutes just running his hands over the glass, turning in over in his hands before he drinks it. By some miracle when he finally takes a starved gulp, most of the water is still in the cup and manages to make it into K's mouth.

When Gon holds his hand back out for the glass, K ignores him. He shifts under the threadbare blanket and takes a deliberate moment to gather himself before pushing himself up on his elbows, his face screwing up in concentration.

Gon shoves him down before K even manages to get his back off the mattress and gets a weak smack in the shoulder for his efforts. "What do you need? Do you want more?" Gon asks. "I'll get it."

K thrusts the cup towards him, agitated, but Gon doesn't take it personally.

They repeat the process five times until K can finally sit up without too much strain. His hands get steadier and steadier with each glass, and he begins to slow down and take sips rather than gulps. Some of the color comes back to his face too, the healthy flush encouraging.

Gon sets K's half-empty glass on the counter when he's finished (who knows how long the well outside will last) and relocates to his cot, grabbing a notebook and pencil he borrowed from Leorio. The doctor's daily checkup isn't due for awhile, so he figures they can relax for awhile. Palm already visited for the day, leaving dinner, so the next half hour'll be his first chance to find out what he can about the boy before Leorio tries to demand answers out of him.

It's odd to see such an animalistic look twisting K's face, the weary distrust. The boy's sleep hadn't been anything close to peaceful, but at least he'd resembled a human being. Now he reminds Gon of a foxbear he once found in a trap as a kid, biting its own arm off out of pure desperation for escape.

The best way to have an animal warm up to you is to gain its trust and show it you mean no harm.

Gon holds out the notebook and pencil to K, feeling hopeful when he doesn't look too confused. "Can you write?"

Hesitantly K takes the notebook. Holding the pencil awkwardly pinched between two fingers, he carefully spells out a shaky "yes." Gon watches as his guest continues, K's eyebrows furrowing in concentration. He mouths words to himself, each separate sound taking multiple chocked tries until he decides on a letter. It takes at least five minutes for him to complete his barely legible sentence, and he almost shoves the notebook back at Gon, anger sapping away any sense of accomplishment he might have felt at his success.

grandpa zeno tat me

 _…His grandpa taught him? He's definitely not from this country then. Can't be a scholar either. Our country's language is one of the most commonly used._

"Can you tell me your name? Where you're from? Anything?" Gon tries not to sound too eager as he relocates to the bed, careful to keep space between them. At the rate K's writing, Leorio will be here before they know it, and Gon can already see the fatigue settling in. A few base facts will make getting to know him much easier.

Much to his surprise, he gets an answer to his first question quickly. K looks proud of himself when he holds up the notebook, like a child showing off a good test to a parent.

killua

"Ki- _llu_ -a?" K makes a face and shakes his head. "Ki-ll-u-a?"

"…Killua—" K forces out, succumbing to painful hacking coughs.

Gon winces in sympathy, cautiously patting Killua's back. He's not pushed away.

By the time Leorio arrives for the daily check-up, Gon's expanded Killua's written vocabulary from about ten words to twenty, including Gon's name, the basic emotions and questions, and the word "pain." Killua's a fast learner, already able to combine some of the words to make choppy sentences, but his frustration at his limited communication skills has the pencil tip frequently snapping.

"Le-or-e-o," Gon says as the doctor comes in, enunciating his friend's name with enough exaggeration to get a snort of laughter for his efforts. Killua's head snaps around, the distrust Gon had finally gotten rid of returning in an instant, relaxed posture snapping into a hard line of tension.

 _Maybe he's a soldier of some kind?_

The check-up is quick. The two play off each other well, Leorio quickly catching on to his patient's boundaries and Killua struggling too much in response. Anything involving cold metal is avoided and Leorio has to walk around the bed in circles rather fight to make Killua turn around, but Killua lets the doctor poke around without a fight and endure the bed's constant lurches under Leorio's weight. It's a stubborn game of ring around the rosy while Gon looks on.

Leorio jots few quick notes in his journal, then snaps it closed with a grin. "All right! Let's see how your feet are doing."

Killua shakes his head and shoves the doctor away from his body. Gon can already see the resolute set of his jaw and his squared shoulders, the gesture familiar enough by now to make him want to laugh at the losing battle unfolding before him, Leorio's boiling emotions exploding into his characteristic rage.

If Leorio calmed maybe a compromise could've been met in less than five minutes, but Killua was already under his skin, and the doctor's heightened emotions are be as much a disability as a gift in his line of work. The farthest he gets today is a brief glimpse of Killua's feet to show that, no, they are still just as smooth and unblemished as the rest of him and Leorio is not allowed to poke at his feet, okay? And all this is conveyed in hoarse whispers as high as Killua can manage and Gon's ability to understand all the emotions that flicker quick as a flash of light across the other's face.

It can be imagined how long it took to communicate the issue, let alone reach an agreement between both parties.

"Piece of work, this one," Leorio mutters into his bag, shoving his journal deep into the darkest corners in his anger. "Brat. You're gonna have to walk sometime. Wait too long, you won't be able to support your body weight and be stuck with those awful muscle exercises no one likes and just make life harder. And you, Gon!" He aims a weak glare over his glasses. Gon has the decency to look sheepish. "Whose side are you on!? You better at least get him to stretch his legs before the day's out or so help me I'll drag him off that bed myself tomorrow!"

They both know it's an empty threat. Leorio will sooner jump a shark than harm a patient.

"Bye, Leorio!" Gon gets a muffled grumble in response. Leorio peers through the crooked window for one last warning look before he continues on his way. Killua sticks his tongue out in farewell.

Gon sighs, stands, and works the kinks out of his back and arms, nudging Killua with his hip. "Start on your stretches while I make dinner. It'll be ready by the time you're done.

He moves to the kitchen(-slash-dinning room-slash-bedroom) and pulls out Palm's dinner for the day, still wrapped tightly in the pink bandanna she brought it over in. Today's chilled broccoli, mixed rice with veggies, and nearly done mackerel already saturated in sauce. All it'll take to draw out the flavor are a few minutes over a fire.

 _I'll have to ask Palm tomorrow if she can pack a little extra for Killua. It should be awhile before he can eat a whole meal._

Gon moves outside. He keeps one eye on Killua through the window as he kneels down to light his makeshift fire pit in the front yard. The boy doesn't move and stares blindly into space, not a muscle so much as twitching to clue Gon into his thoughts. One massive question mark that Gon wants to figure out.

Leorio is bad at being subtle. Like _really_ bad. Kurapika likes to compare it to a roaring bear stumbling blindly through a forest of bells. It was made amply clear over the last few days that Leorio wants Gon to drop Killua off at the town's resident doctor, that he doesn't trust the way the teen's body healed so fast, but Gon also knows Killua is a good person. He doesn't deserve to be dropped off in some strange town with no one to help get him back on his feet (literally or figuratively).

Yes, Gon doesn't know a lot about Killua, but then he didn't know a lot about Kurapika or Leorio when he approached them about getting a ride on their ship. But that's the point, right? You'd never make friends if you distrusted every mysterious person you came across, and Gon figures himself a good judge of character. After all, he's been around the world surviving on the kindness of strangers and he's not dead yet.

Besides, sixty minutes later and Killua still doesn't seem like a bad person, if a little moody.

Gon concentrates on dinner, placing each mackerel on the fire with a pleasing sizzle. The sauce Palm used requires careful observation to keep the meat from drying out, but _oh_ , it is worth it. The smell it gives off as it cooks makes Gon's stomach hurt. When he looks up to check on Killua, he finds the boy on leaning precariously over the edge of his bed, peering out with an alter expression at the fish.

"No food for you if you don't do your exercises," Gon yells. The resulting groan makes him smile, the distant sound of seagulls echoing.


End file.
